Dance For Me
by Heroes Fly-Minho's Hero Limps
Summary: It was apparently Teresa's lucky night, and undoubtedly the first time Newt had ever stepped into a strip club.
1. Chapter 1

-I am extremely excited about this fic, I cannot even explain. This is a sequel to my old story The Boy Next Door, because come on. Stripper!Minho needs to be written about more. Also, this will be rated M later for certain reasons, so yeah... ;)

I hope you like it! This is part one :)-

-DANCE FOR ME-

It had taken Newt a ridiculous amount of time to work himself up to do this and he was still nervous as hell. It was one thing for a shy librarian to venture out of the house for a couple of dates with his neighbor. It was quite another for that shy librarian to venture to that neighbor's place of work, which happened to be a strip club.

Newt was at a strip club.

He couldn't remember why he'd thought this was a good idea.

"Holy shit, Newt, look at that guy," Teresa hissed from behind him, trailing along with a dumbstruck expression glued to her face. Oh yeah, and Newt had brought along one of his close friends for moral support. He wasn't sure why he'd thought THAT would be a good idea either. "Oh my god, his abs... I think I'm dying."

"Just—be quiet, Teresa," Newt muttered. "I gotta find Minho and I can't concentrate with you gushing about guys all night."

"Okay, you're the one that took me, a single dance teacher, to a STRIP CLUB," she pointed out, giving him that this-is-all-YOUR-fault look through her blue eyes. "What did you expect me to do, sit in the corner?"

He rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. "No, of course not," he answered. "But you gotta be quiet so I can think."

"Good luck," she scoffed, crossing her arms and surveying the club again. "I know I'm not gonna be doing much thinking with these guys around."

It would've been nice if Teresa would sit in the corner, actually. Maybe then he wouldn't be blushing like a moron from all her suggestive comments about the people around them. Not that he blamed her.

The club was dim, lit by multicolored lights piercing the darkness and illuminating tables, customers, and...erm...dancers. Newt shoved his hands into the pockets of his pale blue jacket and fought the urge to keep his eyes trained firmly on the floor. He couldn't help but be unbearably chaste in this situation; the guys in here were absolutely sinful. He glanced to his right and glimpsed a gorgeous redhead, hair swept back and rumpled as he straddled another boy in his chair. The other boy was just as stunning too, with dark curls falling across his forehead and eyes like liquid gold. A smirk danced across his lips, as the redhead circled his arms loosely about his shoulders and proceeded to roll his body from chest to hips in a way that had Newt's heart flopping over. Shit, everyone in here was so shucking hot and God, what he was must look like right now...

"I gotta tell ya, Newt," Teresa piped up again, "if your boyfriend really works here, you're gonna become the luckiest son of a bitch I know."

"He does work here," Newt replied.

"How do you know?"

"Um, he told me."

"Maybe he was lying so you'd fall for that bad boy stripper idea or whatever." She shrugged, fingers fiddling with the tiny golden heart pendant around her neck. "You never know. Guys tend to be stupid liars."

Newt sighed. "Teresa, he's—"

"I'd like to think I'm not stupid or a liar." The voice came from so close to them, that Teresa jerked and Newt actually squeaked. Heart pounding, he realized that it was just another dancer. Then he did a double-take. He was unfairly beautiful, this guy, with short black hair spiked at the front and wearing a tank top that was much too tight. Newt could see the places where the stars-and-galaxies style tattoos slithered up his arms and crept over his chest under the white fabric. They were incredible, and distracting, and he should definitely not be looking at this person like this because he was not Minho.

Newt, ever-eloquent, thought of something to say. "Um."

"Oh, hey!" Teresa waved at the dancer with too much enthusiasm and slung her arm across Newt's shoulders. "My buddy, Newt here and I were just looking for a friend of yours. Thank god you showed up, because we're having a hard time finding him, let me tell you. Also, sorry about the stupid lying men thing earlier and may I just say that you are the hottest thing in here?" That girl didn't even blush.

The guy grinned, teeth white with adorable dimples. "Thanks. You're not so bad yourself, sweetheart."

"Ohmygod," Teresa muttered under her breath to Newt and he mentally shot himself. Great, now he was about to lose Teresa to some stripper. He was never going to find Minho at this rate.

"I'm Aris," the guy went on, thumbs hanging from his front pockets. "Who're you guys looking for?"

Newt brightened. "Oh, he's—"

"Hi, I'm Teresa," Teresa cut in, sticking out her hand for a handshake. "This is my friend Newt. Nice to meet you."

Amused, Aris accepted her hand, but instead of shaking it, he lifted it to his lips. Teresa's lips parted as he lightly kissed her knuckles. "Nice to meet you, Teresa," he replied, voice lower and brown eyes much too seductive for a first meeting.

Giving a shaky laugh, Teresa tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, feet shifting. Dear lord.

Newt cleared his throat. "Um, I'm looking for Minho? He said he'd be here...?"

To his surprise, Aris' eyebrows rose in recognition. "Minho? So that must mean you're the librarian."

Newt found that the English language escaped him for the moment. "...he...he talks about me?" he stammered.

"All the time," Aris answered, his smile genuine and even more heartbreaking than the first. He bobbed his head back toward an area farther in the club. "He's back there, probably with Brenda. She likes to visit a lot. You can't miss him."

"No, you can't," Newt agreed under his breath. Out loud, he said, "thanks. I'm gonna head over, then. Teresa?" He turned to his friend, who looked as though she might faint from ogling Aris. "Are you okay over here?"

Before she could answer, Aris spoke up. "I'll take care of her." Teresa blinked at him and he gave a wink that could probably stop hearts.

"I think I'm good over here," she told Newt, unable to hide her coy smile. "Have fun."

"Yeah, okay." Newt shook his head at her. "You make sure you don't have TOO much fun, all right?"

"Oh, please." Cheeks turning pink, she playfully shoved him away. She was going to get herself into some trouble tonight, if she got in too deep with Aris. But she could handle herself and besides, this was a strip club. She was supposed to have fun.

Newt headed off alone, his stomach alive with butterflies at the prospect of finding Minho. He just hoped he didn't make a fool of himself.

-X-X-X-

"Have you ever been to a strip club before?"

"No." Teresa walked along behind Aris, her stomach fluttering and her heart in chaos. She'd never seen anything like him, with the outline of black wings tattooed on his back and a voice that made her toes curl. She could've walked beside him, she supposed, and had his arm around her waist. But she appreciated the view from back here and kept sneaking glances at his ass in those tight jeans.

He looked at her over his shoulder. "Might be a good thing, actually," he said, surprising her.

"Why?"

"Guys in here would be all over a girl like you."

Sheepish under the praise, she smoothed down her red pleated skirt. She'd wanted to look nice tonight, because of where Newt had said they'd be going, and the skirt was paired with a black V-necked shirt. She was definitely glad she'd worn it. "Thanks." Gazing around them once more, she caught sight of a fiery-haired boy rolling his hips atop another guy. She stopped walking for a second, making Aris pause beside her. "Do you get guys in here too?" she asked.

"Only once in a while," Aris answered. "When we do, we make sure they get Minho or Gally; they're okay with performing for guys." He pointed at the pair she was watching. "Those two work here, actually. Max and Brian. They've been dating for a month now and when they don't have a client to entertain, they entertain each other."

Teresa now noticed the goofy way the brunette smiled when the redhead whispered something in his ear. She fought the urge to give a little "aw." Two strippers in love. How romantic. She gave Aris a sideways glance. "What about you then?" she asked teasingly. "You just dance for the girls?"

His eyes twinkled under the lights. "Maybe." Then he moved closer to her, a hand settling at the small of her back and his lips grazing her ear. "But tonight I just dance for you."

She fought the shiver that ran down the length of her spine. "Don't I have to pay you for this?"

"Do you mind paying?" he asked, husky and while he traced his nose along the curve of her ear. Dammit, he was not playing fair.

She knew she sounded breathless, but it was hard not to. "I don't mind."

His lips curved upward and he pulled lightly at the back of her shirt. "Come with me, then," he murmured. "I think you'd like it better if we weren't in front of people."

Her skin tingled at the idea of having him all to herself, alone. She didn't pull away when he guided her toward a discreet door tucked into the wall. "A private show?" she joked. "My my, I'm honored."

"You should be." His grin hinted at everything that could happen behind a closed door and then more. "Normally we charge extra for this, but I'm thinking of making an exception." He opened the door for her first, revealing a room dim like the rest of the club and furnished with black furniture.

Teresa stepped inside, suddenly unsure. She had no clue what one did while a stripper gave a private show. Like, did she sit down? What did she do with her hands? Was she supposed to say something? COULD she do things with her hands? And now she was imagining putting her hands on Aris, damn.

"Uh." She turned to face him, the door already closed and sounds of music filtering in from outside. "I don't know what I..."

He chuckled at her as though expecting this. Gentler than she'd thought he'd be, he took her shoulders in his hands and guided her back toward a couch at one wall. "It's easy, sweetheart. Just sit and let me do all the work."

"Oh," she managed, as she perched at the edge of the couch. Then there was a much weaker "oh" as he rested a knee on the cushion, next to her leg and stood in front of her in all his glory. He ran a hand over his hair, a half-grin playing on his mouth.

"You might wanna sit back," he murmured, pushing her softly against the back of the couch. Then in a smooth motion, he straddled her lap.

"Okay," she stammered. Her face was heating up, now that he was actually here and actually playing with a strand of her hair, twirling it around his index finger. She watched him run the strand between finger and thumb until it slipped out of his grasp. She'd never wanted so badly to experience what that piece of hair just experienced. "What do I do?" she asked suddenly.

"Anything you want." He braced a forearm against the back of the couch and bent over her, close enough to touch, to taste. "Except for one thing: you can only touch me when I let you."

She was going to hyperventilate in the next thirty seconds. "No touching unless you let me. Got it." Swallowing nervously, she gave a little wave of her hand. "Carry on then."

He laughed at that and it was a glorious dark sound. "We'll go slow," he said, skimming a fingertip down her arm. "Just until you're comfortable."

"Can we..." She almost didn't finish her sentence, as his fingers stopped tracing her arm and moved to splay across her side. "Can we still talk or something? So I don't feel weird?"

He replied with a brilliant smile. The beat of the music changed as a new song started and he gave an almost-experimental roll of his body over her, ending in his hips shifting atop hers to the sound of the music. It was the best three seconds of Teresa's life. "You've really never done anything like this?" he asked, hand falling from her side to rest behind him on her knee. The skin on skin contact sent sparks up her legs.

"Never," she admitted. Then she bit her lip when he moved again, liquid as water and tantalizingly close. "But I dance."

His eyes flickered. "Oh, really?"

"I teach at a studio in town," she told him.

"You'll have to show me."

"I thought you were supposed to be showing me." He raised his eyebrows at her and she just flashed him a smirk of her own. Her blood rushed in her veins when his gaze lingered on her mouth.

"You know, you're cute when you're nervous, but you're sexy when you're like this." That was when he left her with, before he took her wrists in his hands. She started unexpectedly. Then her mind short-circuited as he placed her hands on his chest. His skin was warm, even through his tank top, and her fingers barely brushed the lines of his collarbone. She gasped a little when his body undulated again to the beat of the song, and as it did, he ran her hands down the length of his torso. She felt every ripple beneath his clothing as he rolled his abs up into her palms and ended with her hands at his hips. She wasn't breathing now.

"Quiet all of a sudden?" he asked cheekily, still moving his hips, letting her fingers hook in his waistband and feel him move.

"I'm judging your dance skills," she returned. "And so far, I'm disappointed by what you've shown me."

He gave a huff of laughter and took her hands in his again. "No one's around to see you, remember? You don't have to lie to me." Winking slyly, he slipped her fingertips under his tank top. Teresa's throat closed up as he pressed her palms flat to his stomach. When he danced, she could feel the hard muscle flexing, feel the power in him and the hot skin against hers. She was absurdly pleased when he did the same move he'd done earlier, only this time sliding her hands up to his chest and bringing his shirt up with them. He left her hands on his chest as he reached back, arms flexing deliciously, and caught the back of his shirt; her breath caught as he pulled it off and tossed it away onto the couch next to them.

The black night sky, studded with stars and twisting universes, was inked onto his skin, trailing off before reaching his stomach. Her fingers were touching it now and she traced a crescent moon in wonder. "Like them?" he asked, noticing her small touches.

"They're beautiful," she told him, not meaning to ruin the mood by becoming serious.

But Aris didn't seem to mind. His mouth quirked at the corners and those dimples of his surfaced under her words. More importantly, he didn't stop dancing, hips nearly grinding into hers, coaxing her hands back down his stomach. He guided them down to the sides of his hips, over the denim of his jeans and every motion was like a statement against her palms.

"How am I doing now?"

"Better." She'd admit that, at least. She wasn't sure if her heart was still beating or not. She was beginning to realize that she wanted him too much, this amazing amazing stranger. She had to bite her tongue over a whine when he shifted forward on her lap, so that if she leaned forward an inch she was tempted to run her tongue up his abs. Which she most certainly was.

"This whole no-touching-unless-you-let-me rule sucks," she said aloud, flat.

"You're lucky I'm letting you touch me at all," he replied. "Most of the time, I hate when I have girls throwing themselves at me."

"Yeah, right."

"No, seriously. Imagine constantly having a guy trying to put his hands on you while you work."

"It'd be awesome."

He snorted in a manner that suggested he hadn't expected her to make him laugh like this. It felt warm in her and like she was special, which she knew she wasn't. She couldn't be, not when tons of girls had had him in their laps or even in their beds. She didn't know if he was the kind of guy to take a girl home, but he was a stripper for God's sake. It was practically his job to show a girl a good time.

Teresa tried to focus on that, because she didn't want to have herself doing anything stupid, like thinking she wanted to seriously find this guy again and go on an actual date. It would never happen. But focusing was becoming hard, especially when he did things like nose at her hair. "You're a dancer, huh?" he asked and she nodded wordlessly. His words were tinged with play. "Then technically, you could've worked here."

"I don't think so," she laughed.

"You sure?" He rested one of her hands on his side and then slid the other around to his ass. Teresa's mouth went dry. He was rolling his hips again and every fluid motion of it felt like magic under her hands. She had the awful urge to feel that without his jeans in the way.

"Are clients not supposed to want to kiss strippers?" she asked breathily, head tipped up to see his face.

"Yeah, kissing isn't typically part of the show." He licked his lips, bumped his forehead against hers with his next body roll, and one of his hands abandoned hers to caress her cheek. His thumb dragged across her bottom lip and she sucked in a sharp breath. "You can kiss me," he murmured lowly. Mischief entered his gaze. "But it'll cost you extra."

"Bastard," she muttered. His thumb was still on her lip. Testing her boundaries, she took it between her teeth and let her tongue graze his skin.

The way his smirk was wiped right off his face made it worth it. "C'mere," he whispered, and he buried his fingers in her hair as he pulled her mouth onto his.

It was like her world lit up. All of her self-control was destroyed by his lips on hers, teasing hers apart. He tasted sweet and tempting, much too tempting. But she tilted her head up into it anyway and kissed him back with just as much eagerness. She hadn't thought he'd want her like this, but he was breathing heavily, both of his hands tangled deep in her hair now. When she parted her lips for him, he finally moaned as he tasted her tongue on his. She forgot about the can't-touch-until-he-let-her rule. She splayed both hands on his ass, tightened her grip, and listened to him gasp. He ground his hips down onto hers again, this time with every intention of making her whimper.

"Guess I'm allowed to touch you now?" she asked mischievously, breaking the kiss as he moved his lips down her jaw. Her head fell back as he kissed at her neck, sucking on her skin.

"You can do whatever you want to me, sweetheart," he breathed.

She almost groaned at the thought. Her hands traveled up his back, worshipping the lines of muscle there. She ached to see the tattoo of the wings and maybe trace the feathers with her tongue. Then she felt him drop his hands to her hips. "But first, I wanna see you dance," he teased. His grip on her was strong enough so that when he flipped over, he could heft her up onto his lap. Teresa yelped at the sudden change of position, grabbing onto his shoulders as he sat back on the couch. She glared down at him. So they were gonna play that way, huh?

"What makes you think I wanna dance for you?" She asked it casually, tugging down the hem of her skirt to make sure she was covered while straddling his hips. His eyes followed her motions as she then reached up to smooth her hair back.

"You would've left if you didn't," he replied. His thumbs rubbed circles into the place above her waistline, over her shirt. She bit back a plea for him to touch her skin on skin.

"Fair enough." Teresa set her hands at his shoulders and pretended to think. "Now, what was that move you did?" She smirked down at him and then circled her hips once. It was fluid, because she had of course danced before and the moves, though on someone's lap, were basically the same. Aris looked as though he wanted to ravish her right there. When she moved again, he huffed out, "Teresa," and slipped one of his hands toward her thigh. She caught it immediately and placed it back at her hip. "Remember?" she grinned. "No touching unless I let you."

"You—" He broke off as she ducked down and pressed their mouths together again. He didn't try to speak then. It was a desperate, hungry kiss and he sucked on her bottom lip when she tried to pull away. It was undoubtedly sexy and she mewled into his mouth. She ran her fingers through his hair, not caring if she messed it up, hoping she messed it up. She wanted him to look like he'd been made a mess by her.

Teresa ended the kiss and Aris made a rough noise of disappointment. But then she grabbed him by the wrists and placed them up on her shoulders. She did the same body roll motion he had, running his hands down her torso. But it was decidedly more intimate; she dropped her head back when his palms passed over the curves of her chest and then her stomach. Aris inhaled sharply, not expecting her to let him touch her in such a way but not complaining nevertheless.

"Aris?" she asked, caught by how edible he looked under her.

"Yeah?"

"Are clients not supposed to want their strippers like this?"

"That's kinda the point."

"Then are they not supposed to actually do something about it?"

"That isn't typical, no." Then he cracked a joking grin. "That's gonna cost you extra too."

He just couldn't resist. "You son of a bitch," she growled, and then their mouths were crushed together and she was really kissing him now, clutching his shoulders in an iron grip. He tugged her shirt out from where it'd been tucked into her skirt and ran his hands up her back. His touch on her bare skin was electrifying. She arched her back under his palms, let him feel the way her body moved. His fingers followed the bend of it, shaping to her spine and the dimples above her hips. She couldn't remember the last time she'd wanted someone to touch her so badly.

"So, you think I'd make a pretty good stripper," she whispered to him, daring to fiddle with the button of his jeans.

"Yeah," he breathed back. All of his attention was taken by her undoing the button at his waistband. But then she took her hands away, enjoying his disappointed growl.

"But don't strippers have to also be good at, you know, stripping?" Teresa let him think about that for a moment as she reached for the hem of her shirt. Aris' eyes widened the smallest bit, his hold tightening on her waist. She didn't miss the slow burn that appeared in his gaze when she stripped out of her shirt and left it piled on top of his. She was really fitting into the whole stripper feeling tonight, in a bra of crimson lace and with her diamond belly button piercing on display.

Aris looked like his lungs had ceased to work. "I didn't know you had a piercing," he said dumbly.

"Sweetheart," she mocked, "there's a lot of things you don't know about me." She liked this. She felt more confident, now that she knew that she could shake him up. With no warning, she bent to kiss his neck, sealing her lips across his skin and tasting the dark taste of him. He smelled gorgeous and she hummed appreciatively into his shoulder. His head tipped back on its own as she made her way down his chest, mouthing across his skin. Her hands rested on his thighs, teasing through the denim, and he whimpered when she licked down his abs. He was just as delicious as she'd thought he'd be.

"Resa," he gasped and she immediately loved the nickname.

"Hmm?" Innocently, she peered up at him from between his legs, fingertips playing with the zipper of his jeans.

"I'm not supposed to do this in here." There was a suggestion of worry that meant he could be in trouble if they were found out. But there was also the undeniable want that he wasn't bothering to hide.

Pushing herself up, Teresa glided back up his stomach and chest to meet him nose to nose. She grinned when his eyes roved over her instead of staying on her face. "You don't have to do anything," she reminded him, "if you don't want to."

His eyes darkened. "Teresa."

He had her by the hips before she could move. Lifting her up, messily kissing between gasps, and laying her out along the length of the couch. The fabric was smooth and soft beneath her back and Teresa squirmed against it in satisfaction, simultaneously pressing her hips up against his. The expression on his face, the flash of pleasure there, made her knees weak.

If she'd been standing, her knees would've given out entirely when he began trailing tongue and lips down her collarbone. She inhaled sharply, instinct making her thread her fingers into his hair. Her teeth clamped down on a moan when he kissed along the curves of her breasts above her bra. When he worked his way down her stomach, his hands replaced his mouth, cupping her breasts in a way that had her biting down on her bottom lip. "Aris," she exhaled, arching up into his touch.

"Already saying my name like that?" he asked, voice vibrating against her stomach. "I didn't even start yet."

Teresa thought about a witty comeback to say, but it died when he pulled her belly button piercing into his mouth and sucked. Holy hell, she'd never known how sexy that could look until he did it. And, dear lord, he glanced up at her, dark eyes sinful. "God, you're so damn—" she stopped before she could say anything that would embarrass her.

"Go on, don't let me distract you." Aris shot her a cocky grin. Then he slipped down even farther on the couch and she felt him reach into her skirt. His fingertips skimmed up her thighs, making her shudder all over. It only grew worse when he found the lace waistband of her underwear and hooked his thumbs into it.

"Ohh..." The sound slipped out of her on its own as he peeled the fabric down her legs, taking his time. He touched small kisses to her skin as he went, lips soft. She felt vulnerable as soon as he abandoned the clothing on the floor. But the desire she felt for him overpowered all other senses and she focused on that as he ran his hands along her legs. It was like he wanted to touch all of her, worship every inch of her, but he had to settle for this. Teresa wished that they were somewhere else, where he could give her all the attention he wanted to.

"I hope you're not loud," he joked, dropping a kiss on her knee. "Because these walls aren't exactly soundproof."

Propping herself up on her elbows, she arched a brow. "You're assuming you can make me get loud," she pointed out drily.

"I'm not assuming." The look he gave her went straight through her, turning her insides to jelly. Slow, he started pressing kisses to her thigh, moving toward the hem of her skirt. It was torturous and she nearly dropped her head back onto the couch again. But she had to watch, had to see it when he draped her legs over his shoulders and slid his fingers along her thighs. He wrinkled her skirt around her hips and made the softest sound against her inner thigh.

Teresa nearly buckled right then, as Aris ran his tongue from thigh to knee and then slanted a glance her way from autumn-colored eyes. Then he was kissing back down her other leg and dammit, it was too slow and her fingers were already clenching in the couch cushions. "Oh god," she managed, when his breath fanned across her inner thighs.

He made a noise then, close to a pained whine. There was sudden seriousness in his words when he spoke. "Listen, before I... Um, you just tell me if you wanna stop, okay?"

"Fineokay," she stuttered out.

"I'm serious, Resa, if you wanna—"

"Aris." She sent him a glower through sparking azure eyes. "If you don't do something right now, I'm going to leave and I'm not coming back."

Aris' lips tipped into a raunchy grin at that. "Point taken, sweetheart."


	2. Chapter 2

-I lied, it's three parts long. XD But I hope you enjoy this because to be honest, I enjoyed writing this WAY too much. Read and review if you liked it, they make my day, guys. You're awesome readers, I'm seriously so lucky to have you.

Ok, now have some Minewt. ;)-

-PART TWO-

Oh, Newt was in the wrong place. This was not the kind of place a librarian should be caught hanging out in. Not at ALL.

He tried to avoid everyone's eyes as he weaved between people. Some of them could tell immediately that he was uncomfortable. It wasn't every day, after all, that a shy little blonde in blue Converses and a baseball cap showed up at a strip club. What was he thinking? He should've just told Minho to meet him somewhere else, but he'd thought it'd be easier to meet him at work and then they could go out somewhere. Besides, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to see what Minho was like at work.

It wasn't that Newt was so against strip clubs. He was the just kind of person that was so chaste, he still looked away when another guy was changing clothes in the same room as him. A place like this was really going to test his ability to ignore hot guys grinding on people's laps. He was failing at that ability, by the way. There was a raised stage that he kept glancing toward, almost fearfully. Luckily, they seemed to be between shows because no one was up there right now, among the sultry purple lights and slick poles. Newt mentally ordered himself to NOT imagine Minho pole dancing because it might kill him.

"I hope Teresa's having a better time with her stripper than I am with mine," Newt muttered under his breath. "If I could even find..." Then he stopped dead in his tracks. Because he'd just found Minho. And the only words that seemed to fit this situation were holy shuck.

At the moment, Minho seemed...busy. By "busy," Newt meant sitting on a girl's lap, one hand braced on the wall behind her and the other tipping her chin up to look at him. Newt had never known that hips could move in such a way and in such tight jeans. "Shuck," he mumbled weakly, frozen in place.

The girl was a pretty brunette, with her curled hair pulled back and a sleeveless blue top showing off her curves. Her grin screamed seductive, her elbow resting against the back of the couch as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. Minho seemed to be completely at home in this situation, his body moving fluidly to the music and his smile all kinds of sexy. The girl murmured something to him and he laughed, taking her hands in his. That was when jealousy struck Newt like a bolt of lightning; he watched as Minho guided the girl's hands to the hem of his black tee and let her slip them underneath.

It's his job, it's his job, it's his job, Newt repeated in his head five hundred times. It wasn't like this girl meant anything. Minho didn't even like girls. Newt still had a sour taste in his mouth when he saw the way she looked at Minho.

Minho said something, looking like it was a question, and the girl answered with a cute giggle. Then her expression darkened and she leaned up to whisper in Minho's ear. Newt stiffened when he saw her hands wander down to hook in the front of Minho's jeans. Suddenly, the amusement in Minho's face died away, replaced with a frown. He pushed the girl's hands off of him, muttering something. The girl's brown gaze flashed in annoyance. Rolling her eyes up at the ceiling, she growled what sounded like "no fun" and gave Minho's shoulders a push. He just huffed out a sigh at her behavior and let her stand up, hair flipping irritably, and storm off.

Newt stood there, unsure of whether he should approach or not. The decision was made for him when Minho swept a glance around the club and his gaze landed on Newt. The way his eyes lit up had Newt's heart pinwheeling. "Newt?"

 _Becoolbecoolbecool_. Newt waved shyly and wanted to stab himself. "Hi."

"What're you doing here?" Minho walked over at once and Newt almost fell over at the scent of skin and cologne. Minho's hair was still spiked, but a little messy, and it was perfect.

"I, um, was wondering what it was like here and you always said I should come by so..." Newt shrugged. "Here I am." He peered over Minho's shoulder at where the girl had disappeared. "Who was that?"

"Oh, her? That's Brenda. She comes here a lot." Minho folded his arms over his chest, still looking irked.

Newt couldn't help but be curious. "What's her problem?"

"She thinks that just because we'll dance for her, we'll do whatever she wants for her," Minho answered flatly. "She's always trying to take someone home with her. It used to be Gally, but she stopped because he gets really ticked when clients hit on him."

"And you don't?" Newt ventured.

Minho shrugged. "You get used to it." Then he seemed to brighten, reaching out and tapping a knuckle against the brim of Newt's cap. "Nice hat. You look good." There was that flirtatious smile Newt knew so well.

"Oh—Thanks," Newt stammered, tugging self-consciously at his hat and hoping it shielded some of his blush. "Teresa told me to wear it."

"Teresa?"

"My friend. She's with someone else right now. Um...Aris, I think?"

Minho's eyebrows flicked up. "Aris?"

"Yeah," Newt deadpanned, remembering his and Teresa's shameless flirting. "I'm pretty sure he's giving her some sort of...private show or whatever."

"Aris is giving a private show," Minho repeated, and then he laughed, shaking his head. "Damn, he must really like her. He hates doing that sort of thing for people."

Newt cocked his head in puzzlement. "Why?"

"In here, we have a rule about every show," Minho explained. "Everything is up to your dancer, including how much you're allowed to touch him." Newt's face burned at that, but Minho didn't seem to notice as he went on. "When anyone gets a private show, they're way more likely to try something with you. Aris would rather be out here, where a girl isn't gonna try to grope him while he works."

"Oh. Okay. I guess that makes sense."

Silent for a couple of seconds, Minho studied Newt with a new carefulness in his gaze. "So if Teresa came here to hook up with a stripper, what'd you come here for?" he asked suddenly.

Newt felt instantly vulnerable from such a question. "Uh, well," he began, clearing his throat. "I guess I came to see you."

"Uh-huh." Minho was moving now, stepping toward Newt with deliberate slowness. When he was right up in Newt's personal space, he took the blonde's chin between thumb and forefinger to coax his chin up. "To see me, huh?"

Newt's heartbeat gave a few warning jumps in his chest. He wasn't sure what Minho was getting at, but he was positive that it was far from innocent. "Yeah," he answered hesitantly, feeling Minho's thumb move with his chin as he spoke. The irrational urge to have his thumb between his teeth washed over him.

"You know, you didn't have to drive the whole way out here. If you wanted to watch me put on a show," Minho murmured silkily, "all you had to do was ask."

Newt's stomach twisted with butterflies. "Oh, and you would've done it?" he scoffed, using sarcasm as his only barrier between himself and the handsome stripper two inches from him. "What's your plan then, to just walk over to my house and—and do whatever it is you do here?"

"Absolutely," Minho answered at once, making Newt stutter. He was moving forward again now, forcing Newt to back up, toward an empty couch sitting invitingly against a back wall. This place was full of free seating and lovely furniture, all in shades of purple and black. That didn't mean that Newt wanted to be backed into one by his boyfriend, who was obviously planning on doing something entirely inappropriate in public.

"You wouldn't," he managed. Keeping this argument going was his last grip on sanity. "Not w—when neighbors could see, and—"

"Newt, I'd pin you to the car in your driveway if you'd let me," Minho cut him off, his voice like chocolate and his words numbing Newt's mind.

"I— Min—" Newt broke off when the backs of his knees met the couch cushion. He would've fallen backward, but Minho's arm snaked around his waist. He was held up with a hand pressing hotly into the small of his back, his arms folded between their chests, and Minho's face so close that the brim of his baseball cap grazed Minho's hair. The slow smirk that spread across Minho's lips was nothing but trouble.

"Remember their nickname for me here?" Minho asked, free hand coming up to trace his thumb along Newt's bottom lip.

Newt gasped at the touch, a shiver running down his spine. "Th—the Dragon," he squeaked out.

"Let me show you why they call me that." Minho's hand slipped away from Newt's back and the blonde lost his balance, sitting heavily on the couch. He drew his hands into his lap, nervous and feeling as though his entire body was catching on fire.

"What're you going to... _Oh_." He choked on his words as Minho casually settled on his lap, straddling him. Newt's back met the couch cushions, overwhelmed by everything. His mind was torn in two directions; they were in front of other people, where anybody could see what was happening. Newt was NOT the sort of person to act this way in public. But, Christ, Minho looked so good and he was placing himself in Newt's lap like the most gorgeous invitation. "Oh, Minho, I don't know..."

"Shh, angel, relax," Minho cooed, sending Newt's heart into delirious spins. "I know what I'm doing." He took the zipper of Newt's jacket and pulled it down, pushing the material off his shoulders. Trying to stay as calm as possible with a stripper in his lap, Newt slipped out of the jacket, leaving him in a white T-shirt. He felt his ears burn red as he realized he had a ridiculous picture of a worm wearing glasses on the front, with the word BOOKWORM printed beneath. It was for the library he worked at, Jesus.

But Minho just chuckled low in his throat and pulled amusedly at the front of Newt's shirt. "Cute," he commented.

"I'm not really cute," Newt mumbled sheepishly. Then he weakly uttered, "God." Because Minho had rested his hands on Newt's shoulders and rolled his entire body in a way that was utter sin. It was nothing compared to his smug grin when he saw Newt's gaze glued to his hips.

"A picture'll last longer," he advised, and then snickered when Newt gave him a push in the arm. "Hey, watch it. I didn't tell you you could touch me yet."

Newt sobered then, leaning back in his seat and watching in awe as Minho undulated his body again. "I don't know if I should," he said dumbly.

A burst of laughter left Minho and he raised his eyebrows at Newt. "You really are too shy, aren't you?"

"No, that's not it..."

"What, then?"

Newt, who had never been very skilled at flirting, summoned the courage to slant his eyes up at Minho coyly. "If I touch you, I might not be able to stop."

Minho stared at him for half a second. Then he dropped his gaze, mouth tipping up at the side. "Here," he said, taking Newt's hands in his.

"What're you doing?" Newt asked confusedly.

Minho shot a look at him that was practically the definition of sex. "Putting your hands on me."

"O—oh," Newt stammered out, as Minho pulled his hands forward and curled them around his hips. Every time he moved, Newt felt it and it was bloody fantastic. Minho slid his hands just a bit under his shirt, barely grazing a toned stomach, and Newt bit down a whimper. He saw Minho reach up, going for the back of his shirt to pull it off, and Newt was reminded again of where they were and the people around him. "Don't you have to work or something?" he blurted out. "I mean, I don't wanna get you in trouble."

"Next show's starting soon, but I'm not in it," Minho answered carelessly. "The rest of the night is just for any clients that happen to show up."

"So, shouldn't you be waiting for them?"

Minho silenced any other arguments by ducking down and pressing a brief, hard kiss to Newt's mouth. Newt gasped, hands coming up to touch Minho's jaw, a wicked tongue running along his lower lip. But it was over in a moment, leaving him longing for more. Minho brushed their noses together, keeping Newt tilted back against the couch with his head angled up, as though begging for another kiss. "The only person I wanna be with tonight is you," he promised, barely a breath against Newt's lips.

The only thing Newt could think to do was nod shakily. He held Minho by the hips again, the shyest of smiles rising when Minho rolled them atop his lap. Minho noticed and smirked knowingly. "I thought librarians weren't into lap dancing."

"We aren't."

"Oh, please." Minho ran his fingertip down the side of Newt's neck, eliciting a tiny sigh. "You don't wanna admit that you love this." Then he peeled up the hem of his shirt and stripped out of it entirely. Newt didn't see where he left it, but that might've been because he was staring at Minho. He'd seen him shirtless before, but he'd forgotten just how breathtaking Minho was. He whined quietly when Minho rolled his body again, then slid Newt's palms up onto his stomach. Newt had to bite his tongue when his skin came into contact with hard muscle. He inhaled a ragged breath when Minho's next body roll had his abs sliding under Newt's hands.

"You're so sexy," he said aloud, the words leaving him without thinking.

"Angel, I'm flattered," Minho replied cheekily. "It's not everyday I get a librarian in a cute little baseball cap telling me I'm sexy."

Newt growled and raised a hand to pull at the cap's brim. "I told you, Teresa made me wear it."

"It's adorable. I'm serious." To prove it, Minho plucked the cap off of Newt's head, making him blink in confusion. Then his lips parted as Minho stuck it on his own head, spiked hair poking out from beneath the brim. "How do I look?"

"Good," Newt managed, since "edible" was probably not a decent answer.

Minho seemed satisfied with that though, because he didn't stop dancing and Newt didn't stop slowly sinking deeper in love. It was impossible for him to keep his composure, not with Minho grinding in his lap or giving him the most tantalizing bedroom eyes. To hell with the people who could be watching.

Licking his lips nervously, he sat up on the couch, leaning up from the back and putting his nose even with Minho's neck. There was a slight falter in Minho's movements, his hands rising up to rest questioningly on Newt's sides. Newt was not at all sure how he should do this; how did one seduce a stripper, after all? He let his eyes hold Minho's until he bent and cautiously kissed his collarbone; his skin tasted better than Newt had imagined it would and he just barely grazed the hollow of Minho's throat with his tongue. Then he drew back, uneasy and with shaky fingers on Minho's waist. Minho held his gaze for two more beats of the song. Then he shoved Newt back against the couch with hands on his chest, pressing his mouth to Newt's throat.

Newt felt a thrill shoot through him at the idea that he had actually gotten to Minho. Then he moaned, because Minho was parting his lips and running his tongue up the side of Newt's neck. "Oh god," he gasped out, clinging to the taut muscle in Minho's back. He could feel Minho's hands on him, sliding up from his ribs to his chest and back down again. Teeth met the skin of his neck, making him squirm as Minho bit down. Then he sucked over the marks he'd left and Newt's back arched up off the couch. "Please, Minho."

"Please what?" Minho asked, perfect and husky.

"Kiss me," Newt begged.

Minho sent him the flash of a crooked grin. "Thought you didn't like doing too much in public."

Newt glared at him. "Minho, if you don't kiss me right now, I'm going to break up with you."

"Damn." Arching an eyebrow, Minho slid the baseball cap around so that it faced backward. "In that case, I'll do whatever you want." His hands cupped Newt's jaw and pulled him up into the most bone-melting kiss he'd ever experienced. He scrabbled for a hold on Minho's hips, fingertips circling through his belt loops to keep him as close as physically possible.

It no longer mattered that there were eyes that could be watching them or that the music was pounding deep thrums of bass into Newt's ears. All that he could feel was Minho's body over his and the light press of his teeth catching Newt's upper lip. He pushed up into it, eyes closed and intoxicated, letting Minho kiss the breath out of him. There was another teasing roll of Minho's body, this time with his hips falling to grind across Newt's. Newt whimpered pitifully into his mouth and Minho only pressed harder into the kiss.

Newt decided right then and there that if they were going to make out in public, then shuck it, he was not going to be the only one whimpering for more. Feeling braver and a tiny bit scared, he reached between them and sneakily undid the button of Minho's jeans. Either the dancer didn't notice or he didn't care, because he didn't halt in his frantic kissing. But he sure as hell noticed when Newt circled a hand around his back and slid his fingers beneath the loosened denim. He stiffened, and then Newt's hand splayed across his ass, and dear god, he _moaned_. Newt would've paid money just to hear that sound again.

"Ugh... Hey. Hey, Minho!"

Minho broke away from Newt with a gasp, hands leaving Newt and going up to spin the baseball cap forward again. Newt jerked his hands off of Minho so fast, he almost punched himself in the face, balling them up at his chest like a terrified toddler. He took one look at the burly, bald guy glaring down at them and knew instinctively that this was Minho's boss. A horrified flush scorched his neck and face.

"What, Alby?" Minho snapped, unfazed, save for his ragged breathing.

The bald man exhaled in a huff, black-brown eyes annoyed. "I have to tell you guys every day, don't I?" he asked, deep voice like distant thunder. "No fooling around with the clients."

"We weren't—"

"I don't care how much they pay you."

"He's my—"

"No one wants to see that here."

Minho's jaw tightened like he was holding back a frustrated groan. He slipped off of Newt's lap and stood, all attitude in place and pulling it off great in his undone jeans and crooked ball cap. "Yeah, okay, I'm sorry," he deadpanned, hands up in a so are we done here? gesture.

Alby hummed low in his throat, as though contemplating whether or not to scold his employee more. Then his shoulders fell in resignation and he jerked his head toward the doors. "You wanna fool around, do it at home. You're done tonight anyway." With that, he strode away, form powerful under his black collared shirt. He could dominate a crowd himself, that was for sure.

Newt stood up on jellied legs as Minho redid his jeans and scowled after his boss. "Sorry I got you in trouble," he ventured.

"Eh, no big deal," Minho brushed it off. "Alby only gets really mad at Gally and his boyfriend, Thomas. You should those two when they go at it." One corner of his mouth pulled up. "He won't fire me or anything though. I make him too much money."

Of course. "I'm sure you do." He gathered up his jacket from the couch and held out Minho's T-shirt. "Here's, um, your shirt."

"Thanks." Minho slipped off Newt's baseball cap and Newt took it back, as Minho got back into his shirt. Newt thought that he might as well put his jacket back on too, and he pushed his arms through the sleeves and reached for the zipper. A tiny noise escaped him as suddenly, Minho grabbed him by the strings of his jacket and reeled him in, nose to nose. "Hey, Newt," he began conversationally, a half-smile on his face.

"W—what?" Newt had to hold his breath because inhaling Minho's alluring scent was making him dizzy.

"Guess what."

Newt wanted to roll his eyes. "What?"

"I want you to take me home."

Newt's heart stopped beating, then started up again so fast, he thought it'd burst. "I—I... Well, I've never..."

"I know." Minho leaned in, slow, and sank his lips onto Newt's jaw in a burning kiss. Newt's knees felt weak. "Let me be your first," Minho whispered into his neck, and Newt was caught between two thoughts: one, that he lived next-door to Minho and his neighbors were going to know what they were up to and he would NEVER live down that embarrassment. And two, that if Minho looked this good dancing, he must look damn near amazing in bed.

He was making a great argument too, continuing his path of butterfly kisses along Newt's jawline. "I... Okay," Newt whined out, head tilting into Minho's touch. "But Teresa came with me, and I need to drop her off, and dammit, Minho." He mewled as Minho's tongue traced his earlobe.

"We have to leave in separate cars anyway," Minho murmured, finally halting in his torture and rubbing their noses together in a painfully affectionate gesture. "Find your friend. Drop her off. Come to my house." He dropped his voice down to a near-whisper, breath grazing Newt's lips like the memory of a kiss. "But don't keep me waiting too long, angel. If I'm being honest, I've wanted you all night."

When was the last time someone had confessed to wanting Newt? Never. Ever. He nodded, small and biting down a dopey smile. "Okay. I'll...I'll see you then, I guess." Minho released his jacket, fingers ghosting down his chest before letting go. Dumb and near-swooning with the knowledge of what they were going to do, Newt stupidly stuttered "um, I'll just—" and pecked Minho's mouth in a sweet farewell.

Minho raised his eyebrows, a grin full of mischief rising at Newt's chastity. "You are a little angel, aren't you? Just to make sure, though..." Stealing Newt's hat again, he put it back on his own head. "I'll keep this. So you'll have to come back for it." He tipped the brim out of his eyes with a fingertip and winked.

"Yeah, okay." Now Newt grinned like a moron.

"See you later, yeah?"

"Y—yeah."

Minho headed off into the club then, maybe to grab anything he'd taken with him and then leaving. Newt stood there silently, watching him go and waiting for his legs to work again.

Then he RAN to find Teresa.


	3. Chapter 3

- _This part is here at last! :D I'm so happy that I got this done, let me tell you. I'm not sure if this is the last chapter or not, but i think I'll let you decide if you want a fluffy morning moment between these two... So if you want a last part for the morning, request it in the review and I might write it if you guys really want it :)_

 _Now I have a warning: I've been wanting to try writing more for my heated scenes in my Fanfics, if you know what I mean ;). Anyway, this still is far from graphic, but I did try to inch out there a little more with my writing, so if you don't like it, you don't have to read it lol. I'm just warning you._

 _So, always, enjoy! And leave a review if you liked it, they are greatly appreciated.-_

Newt was acting like an idiot.

He'd been standing on Minho's doorstep for far too long now, trying to come up with something to say when he opened the door. What was he supposed to do in this situation? Newt hadn't thought he'd ever have to show up at someone's house, in the middle of the night, after they'd promised to...do things later. He had no clue how one approached this.

 _Maybe I should say something really smooth_ , he thought, then quickly discarded that idea. Isaac Newton, nerdy librarian, was far from smooth. _Maybe I should just shove him into a wall and kiss him_. No, that was dumb too. Newt was neither strong enough, nor confident enough to actually do that. Sighing, he decided that the best thing to do was to just wing it. So he took a deep breath and pressed the button of the doorbell. He rocked on the balls of his feet as he listened to the ringing echoing distantly in the little house. It looked a lot like his and the others of the neighborhood, white with blue shutters, neat yard. Cute white fence between his place and Minho's. Navy front door, swinging open now, and—

And a very attractive stripper in jeans a black tee, ball cap crooked over spiked hair. Minho leaned a shoulder against the doorway and greeted Newt with a Cheshire smile. "Thought I told you not to keep me waiting, angel."

Newt wondered if it was possible to die from blushing too much. "W—well, I had to get Teresa home and she wouldn't shut up about Aris—God, do you know what they did? You know what, never mind, um, y—you look good, I mean, you always look good, that's your job, but tonight, you really, erm, yeah, you're—"

"Newt."

Newt clamped his mouth shut, realizing he'd been babbling when he saw Minho giving him a raised-eyebrows look of _what're you doing?_ He mentally kicked himself. "What?"

It was surprising that Newt, for all of his ability in noticing the body language of book characters, didn't notice the way Minho's eyes had gotten a spark of something while he spoke. "Just get in here already," Minho growled, grabbing Newt by the collar and yanking him across the porch.

Newt gasped and fumbled with his feet, as he was pulled roughly into the house and the door was slammed shut behind him. "Shouldn't we—?" His words melted into a muffled hum as Minho's mouth covered his. Minho stepped forward, pressed Newt back against the door, and cradled his jaw in his hands. Newt was unable to form a proper thought. Not with Minho's lips teasing his or Minho's knee edging ever so slightly between his legs. He set his hands at the back of Minho's neck and kissed back.

His breaths came ragged when Minho pulled back. "So, um," Newt started, lips pleasantly tingling from the hard kiss, "wh—where's your bedroom?"

He assumed he'd missed something when Minho stared at him like he was the most desirable thing on the planet. "What?" he asked, self-conscious, absently rubbing his thumb against his lower lip to see if Minho had bitten him too hard during their kiss.

"God, do you—" Minho stopped with half of a breathless laugh, running his thumbs down Newt's cheeks. "Do you even know how sexy you are?"

Now Newt laughed, a burst of giggles and embarrassing snorts. "How was ANY of that sexy?" he asked. Then Minho's thumb took the place of his own, tracing his lip, and he halted his laughing.

"You honestly don't know?" Newt shook his head and Minho's lips turned up in amused amazement. "You don't know how you asking me where my room is or touching your lip like that is sexy?"

"No," Newt answered, voice ringing with innocence. "I just... Well, I was pretty sure you wanted to do...this...in your room, and not like, in the front hall." He paused, cheeks dusted pink. "...unless, are you into that kind of thing?"

"Christ, you really don't know." Minho suddenly took hold of the zipper of Newt's jacket, making him stiffen. Slow, he pulled the zipper down until he could push it off Newt's shoulders. The fabric puddled on the floor behind him, leaving him once again in his BOOKWORM T-shirt, vulnerable and captivated by Minho's voice. "Here, I thought you were doing it on purpose," Minho murmured, almost to himself.

Newt tipped his head slightly to the side. "Doing what?"

"Driving me crazy." This time, Minho crowded in on him, Newt's back flush with the door and so close, their lips brushed when he spoke.

Newt smoothed his hands over Minho's shoulders, feeling the strength of them under his fingertips. "I drive you crazy?" he asked, hardly above a whisper.

"More than anyone I've ever met," Minho confessed quietly.

Newt had always found Minho irresistible.

He hadn't considered that Minho might want him just as much.

"Min," he breathed out, and he raked his fingers through Minho's hair, knocking the ball cap off and kissing him desperately. Minho stumbled back with Newt in his arms, grabbing at the back of Newt's shirt. Their kiss was white-hot, burning against Newt's lips and dragging the breath out of him. He didn't bother to stop as they made their way, half-blind, down the hall. He assumed that they were heading for Minho's room and that Minho knew where he was going. So he threw himself into drowning in Minho's kisses, feeling every inch of Minho's silken hair, and forgetting to think.

Halfway down the hall, he'd mewled Minho's name five times. A few steps farther and he'd tugged hard enough at Minho's shirt to get it off. A couple paces after that, and his nails in Minho's back pulled the first whimper out of Minho.

Sudden and deliciously possessive, Minho shoved Newt up against a doorframe. Pinning him there, he grabbed for Newt's wrists and trapped them up above his head. "I—Is this your room?" Newt stammered out between frantic kisses, tipping his head back and letting Minho lick the whines from his tongue.

"Yeah," Minho managed, and he was perfect with his voice low and kiss-weakened. Then he flashed his troublemaker's smirk. "But you can't come in."

Newt frowned. "Why not?"

Slyly, Minho released Newt's wrists and hooked his fingers in the waist of Newt's jeans. "No pants allowed," he murmured, touching a deceptively sweet kiss to Newt's nose. Newt practically dropped into a puddle at his feet. The blonde shivered as Minho undid the button on his jeans. Then Newt couldn't stifle a squeak as Minho's mouth made contact with his throat, beneath his ear. Minho kissed his way from Newt's ear to his neck, yanking his shirt down to give a devilish lick to his collarbone. Newt's fingers twined themselves in Minho's hair and his eyelids slid shut, as Minho's lips grazed downward. He became too used to the blissful feeling of Minho pushing his shirt up and ghosting kisses to his stomach; he didn't notice the way Minho sank to his knees or slung a finger in Newt's waistband.

He certainly noticed when hands started unzipping his jeans.

"Holy shuck—Minho, God, what're you—?" Newt tried to find some air as Minho pressed his lips to the place just beneath his navel, fingers tracing the open zipper of his jeans. "You don't have to..."

"Angel," Minho murmured into Newt's stomach, slanting a glance up at him that had Newt's knees weakening. "I wanna make you as crazy as you make me."

Newt swallowed down a groan as Minho dipped his fingers into his waistband and dragged his jeans down his legs. Vulnerability hit him like a wave of icy water, but he bit his tongue and refused to let it show. There was no way he was going to get scared now, not when Minho was cradling his hips like this, eyes dark as shadows and just as dangerous. He still jerked with a hiss as Minho placed a featherlight kiss to the obvious outline in his briefs. Newt wasn't sure if he was embarrassed or not, but he knew for sure that he wanted Minho's mouth on him again.

"Please," he tried, feeling Minho's thumbs rubbing circles into his hips. Apparently, that was the right thing to say.

Minho drew his tongue up along Newt over the fabric and Newt's heart stopped. Tightening his fingers in Minho's hair, he trembled as Minho mouthed over the length of him. He took his sweet time too, teasing with kitten licks and kisses that had Newt's hips jolting forward. He would've begged, but he wasn't reduced to that quite yet. Minho closed his mouth over him through his briefs and sucked hard enough to have Newt gripping the wall behind him with a shaking hand. Mouth twisted into an almost-there smirk, Minho went back to the long torturous strokes of his tongue. Newt whined, and shook, and dropped his head back to the wall with a thunk. The friction was incredible, but it wasn't enough, not yet. He nearly sobbed when Minho pulled back, fingers skimming along the backs of his thighs.

"Don't stop," Newt begged, shameless now because all it took was a taste of Minho to have him losing his mind. "I can't, Minho, I need more."

Minho moaned into his hip at the words, tugging the side of Newt's briefs down to suck at the skin by his hipbone. Newt's body came alive with electricity. "What do you want?" Minho asked, muffled as he worked his teeth into Newt's skin, branding him with his mark. "Tell me and I'll give it to you."

Dammit, he was really going to make Newt say it. "I want you," he answered, squirming as Minho blew on the pinkish love bite he'd left on Newt's hip. Newt had the wild want for Minho to leave more on him.

Pityingly, Minho shook his head. "You have to do better than that," he purred, hands sliding up to grip Newt over his briefs, causing a muffled noise of pleasure.

Newt whimpered at Minho's hands kneading his ass and those damn dark eyes that never left him. He pushed down his pride enough to blurt out, "I want your mouth on me again. I want you to make love to me." Then he let himself feel mortified for having said such things.

The mortification melted into pleasure as Minho took him in his mouth again and sucked so hard that Newt's knees very nearly buckled. An obscene sound fell out of his mouth, grip curling around Minho's hair. He was half-afraid that he'd pulled too hard, but apparently not; Minho growled and suddenly had his arms secure under Newt's thighs. A little yelp left Newt as he was hefted up, but he went with it, boneless and touch-drunk. He clung to Minho's shoulders and melded their mouths together, as defined muscle slid against his front and hands gripped his ass, carrying him across the room.

Minho dropped him roughly onto the mattress, against soft black sheets. Propping himself up on his elbows, Newt tried to catch his breath. He bit down hard on his lip when Minho took hold of his briefs and pulled them off, shoving his jeans from where they'd been crumpled at Newt's ankles. Cool air bathed his skin and he shuddered. Then hands slid up his thighs, reverently mapping out his skin, and Minho kissed his knee.

"Gorgeous," he mumbled into Newt's inner thigh, sending trembles up his legs. He chose a place on the inside of Newt's hip and sank his teeth in. Newt's hips left the mattress, a mewl working out of his throat, and Minho licked over the new mark he'd left smugly. No one would see it there, no one but him and Newt, and Newt burned with that knowledge. In the next second, Minho's mouth was between his legs and Newt decided it'd be best to just stop thinking altogether.

A wicked smirk twisted one corner of Minho's mouth, as he dragged his tongue along Newt once. It was a filthy, hellishly sexy sight and Newt had to turn and press his cheek to the mattress. "Ohh, Minho," he moaned out, as Minho's lips closed over him, hot and addicting. It was unlike anything. Gritting his teeth, he fought to keep his hips from bucking up. Minho was moving his mouth in the most heavenly way, pausing to run his tongue from base to tip, and making Newt's mind go haywire. He knotted his fingers in the sheets and told himself it would be embarrassing to come after only two minutes.

"Ah—!" Newt's back suddenly arched up, when Minho pressed with his tongue in just the right way and sucked hard. Hands were around his hips at once, pinning them against the mattress. Newt whined pleadingly. "Min, I can't— I need to—" The sentence was left unfinished as Minho backed off, letting his hand take the place of his mouth. Newt jerked under the new and wonderful sensation of Minho's palm sliding along him.

"What's the matter?" Minho asked, tracing his thumb along his lower lip seductively. "We hardly got started and you're already begging for me."

"Min," Newt bit out, fingers aching from clenching in the sheets. "Stop being such a bloody tease."

"Oh, are you getting British on me? Don't worry, angel, I think it's kinda hot."

"Can you just shut up and—?" Newt swallowed his words when Minho took a slow lick over him, darkly tempting.

Cocky, Minho flashed his lopsided smirk again. "Try asking nicely."

Newt was going to freaking murder him. "P—please?" he asked in a whimper. His answer came in the form of Minho mouthing hotly over him until he could take Newt in his mouth again. He didn't hold back this time, giving Newt everything he had, and Newt could hardly believe that he was actually letting his boyfriend do this to him.

His fingers shook as his back bent, head pulling back until he could see the sky-blue ceiling above the bed. The grip loosened on his hips and they rocked upward on their own, relieved that Minho was letting him move at least a little bit. It was all too much, that building of fire smoldering someplace deep inside him. Minho was amazing with his mouth and God, his tongue. It was his tongue sliding roughly up Newt that had him coming in the next few moments, hand over his mouth to stifle a weakened cry of pleasure. Minho pulled back but licked him through it, humming low in his throat; Newt thought he heard several murmured praises, melted into the place where Minho's lips now pressed into his hipbone.

Newt shuddered and gasped for air, hardly registering Minho kissing a feverish path up his body. A blissful sigh glided out of his mouth as Minho nipped his collarbone and then sealed his lips to Newt's. Newt groaned in the back of his throat, parting his lips for Minho. It was a surprise when tasting himself on Minho's tongue didn't bother him; it just made it that much sexier, a reminder of what Minho had been doing to him. Minho braced his forearms on either side of Newt's head, body steely and toned above him. Purring appreciatively, Newt ran his palms up Minho's biceps and along his broad shoulders.

"You still have your pants on," Newt reminded him, breathless with their kiss. "I thought you said none were allowed in here."

"Damn." Minho grimaced. "Broke my own rule."

Newt grinned and jerked a thumb toward the doorway. "Off."

"Bossing me around?" Minho asked, sitting up and reaching for the front of his jeans. He was heartbreaking above Newt, all sun-kissed and with messy hair. All Newt's, all his.

Newt's lashes lowered as his gaze darted away coyly. "Maybe. Why? You don't like it?"

"Don't worry about it." Minho got his jeans unzipped and pushed out of them, doing some quick maneuvering to get them off and remain positioned above Newt. "It's sexy when you order me around," he murmured, dropping a kiss on Newt's mouth.

Newt glanced away at the affection, smitten. "Boxers?" he remarked, slipping a finger around Minho's waistband. "I expected something more...stripper-ish."

"If you wanted a show, why didn't you ask?" The flicker of a playful grin passed over Minho's face. He ducked into a body roll, nose brushing Newt's, and hips dipping downward smoothly. A bubble of laughter escaped Newt and Minho's grin broadened.

Newt spread a hand at the small of Minho's back, electric with the thought that this was it, this was person he was going to give himself to, tonight. Then Minho's smile faded away above him and he gazed down at Newt almost sadly. Newt's laughter died. "What?"

For once, there were no games and no flirting. No trace of the usual Minho. Minho's dark eyes dropped from Newt and Newt was jolted when he recognized the expression on Minho's face: ashamed. "I wish you were my first," Minho murmured.

Newt was transported back to a lonely night in the rain, with Minho in his yard, drunk and shameful of the money he'd won for his virginity.

He took a breath to speak, but Minho cut him off. "Christ, that was— I'm sorry I said that. That was stupid."

Newt cupped Minho's cheek with his hand and coaxed him into looking back at Newt. "No, it's not," he argued gently. "You made a mistake; everyone makes mistakes. I'm just... I'm...honored, that you'd tell me you wanted it to be me." His thumb ran over Minho's cheek once.

Exhaling, Minho closed his eyes and nuzzled into Newt's palm. "Shuck," he whispered, almost pained. "I'm in love with you."

Newt stared at him.

Then he grabbed Minho by the back of the neck and yanked their mouths together. He kissed without thoughts of tomorrow, only with thoughts of here, of Minho over him and Minho's lips on his. Between desperate kisses, he breathed, "then make love to me, Minho, please. I need you."

Minho mewled against his mouth and ran a hand down Newt's body, feeling the way he arched himself up into it. Newt's mind whited out completely when Minho's fingertips reached his thigh, hinting at what was coming. He reached for the bottom of his shirt in response, but Minho mumbled, "leave it."

 _He must really like me in this nerdy shirt_ , Newt thought, and considered a witty comment to make fun of him with. But Minho silenced him when he slipped his hand between his legs and Newt felt the first brush of Minho's fingertip inside of him. He clutched at Minho's shoulder blades, gasping for air. It wasn't all that pleasant and sent a spike of worry through him. Minho kissed his cheek sweetly though and murmured quiet encouragements to him, telling him he was beautiful and that it wouldn't hurt soon. Newt found himself relaxing, muscles loosening. Gratitude for Minho's gentleness lit in his heart.

In the next few seconds, he couldn't remember why he'd thought it hurt. Minho had him losing his mind on the mattress, moaning incoherent pleas and rocking his hips down onto Minho's touch. "Eager, huh?" Minho hummed into his neck, kissing away the sweat gathering at his skin.

"Minho, I swear to God," Newt stuttered, teeth locked so hard into his bottom lip, he thought it'd bleed. "I will kill you if you don't do— _ahh_ —something."

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." Minho licked a mewl out of Newt's lips as he withdrew his hand and reached for his boxers. He was moving devastatingly slow and something snapped very deep inside of Newt. Grabbing Minho's shoulders, he pushed hard, flipping them over. Minho's face was priceless as his back thumped to the mattress, staring at Newt hovering over him. "Where'd this come from?" he asked, a grin splitting his lips.

"You talk too much." Newt dipped his fingers into Minho's waistband and scooted down the mattress to peel his boxers off. Moving back up Minho's body, he stopped suddenly, lips parting. "Holy shuck..." Inked in black, a sinuous dragon curled itself up the side of Minho's thigh to his hip, resting there with fangs bared. It was overwhelmingly gorgeous.

Minho's voice was the only thing that could tear Newt's eyes from it. "I dunno if you're that into tattoos or..." The dancer braced himself on his elbows, watching Newt watching him. There was some actual concern in his features, catching Newt off-guard. "If you don't—" He swallowed his own words when Newt bent down and kissed along the curving body of the dragon, running his tongue over the ink. Minho groaned and Newt smiled against his hip.

"I don't have a problem with it," Newt murmured, and Minho yanked him up for a hard kiss.

They were still trying to frantically kiss when they melted together, Newt sinking down onto Minho, his moan caught in Minho's lips. Newt had read in books about this, knew what sex was supposed to be and what it meant. But books were empty shells compared to the way he and Minho moved together. Making love with Minho was like dancing, finding a rhythm, the slide of skin over skin. Minho let him have his way, hands on Newt's grinding hips, until he apparently couldn't take it anymore. He flipped them over, pressed Newt to the mattress, and made the librarian make noises he'd never known he was capable of. His back arched up and his nails showed his pleasure in reddened lines up Minho's hipbones.

Minho buried his face in Newt's neck and whispered sweet nothings that had him shivering. Newt rolled his hips up into Minho and grinned when he heard Minho groan. Newt's hands pressed against the headboard and Minho's roamed over his body. Newt whimpered things he hadn't had the courage to say before: _please_ , and _more_ , and _I love you_. Minho's answer was always more tenderness and more touches to make Newt unravel.

In the books, sex was sparks and fire, wrong and dirty.

In real life, it was tangled sheets, Minho's wrecked voice against Newt's chest, warnings of _so close,_ Newt's blonde curls spread over a pillow, becoming one. When at last, calm began to settle again and Minho's breaths deepened as he held Newt around the waist, Newt glanced down and smiled.

He was still wearing his BOOKWORM shirt.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Annnnd here is your very-short lil morning-after scene! I hope you like it because I used it as excuse to get some more fluff in here. Review if you enjoyed this little story and thank you so much for all the reviews and support you've given so far! :D-**_

Minho was woken by the sunlight streaming in through the window, burying his head in his pillow and mumbling complaints about how he should've closed the curtains. He wanted one day where he could sleep in til around noon and not worry about a single thing besides maybe food. Well, that wasn't going to happen now. Stifling a yawn, he stretched out lazily under the sheets and reached for the person who'd been curled against him all night.

He wasn't there.

Opening bleary eyes, Minho stared at the empty space next to him in bed. The pillow smelled like Newt, like sweet shampoo, but he was gone. Sitting up halfway, Minho pushed ruffled hair back and wondered where a librarian could've snuck off to on a Saturday. Did he ditch Minho? "Well, damn," he muttered wryly to himself. "Apparently I had a one-night stand with a librarian." Then he almost had a heart attack when a voice spoke up from the hallway.

"Oh, good, you're awake," Newt said brightly, entering the room and setting his shoulder against the doorframe. He linked his hands shyly behind his back. "So, um, I woke up early and I was bored, so I kinda made you breakfast? Or, I'm still making it. I hope you don't mind. It took me a while to find out where your stuff was for pancakes..."

Minho gawked the entire time, mouth slightly open and unable to actually get up off the bed. He couldn't quite fathom the fact that his angelic little boyfriend had not only trusted him with his virginity, but had woken up to make him breakfast the next morning. Then again, now that he thought about it, he really should've expected Newt to pull something like this. He was unfairly adorable in his nerdy T-shirt and briefs, bedhead like rumpled gold. Minho could smell the faint scent of bacon from the kitchen and Newt's shampoo on his pillow.

He was very much in love.

"You...made me food," he deadpanned at last.

"Oh—Yeah." Newt nodded, a smile flitting across his features.

"I love you," Minho announced, maybe more joking at the moment.

Newt's blue eyes shone. "I love you, too," he replied immediately, floating across the room before pausing at the edge of the bed. "Unless...were you serious? Because if you weren't serious, that's super awkward, wow. I'm making it worse, aren't I? Then again, last night, you told me you—"

Minho climbed across the mattress, grabbed Newt by the back of the neck, and muffled his answer with a kiss. The blonde melted against him, arms draping around Minho's shoulders and pulling him in close. Grinning, Minho scooped him up by the waist and picked Newt up onto the bed. There was a tiny squeak as he laid back, settling the blonde on top of him, and then Newt's answering kiss. For the next few minutes, there was nothing but their bodies shifting together and the hot press of mouths pulling out discreet sighs. Minho slid a hand up the back of Newt's shirt, reveling in that lithe bend of skin and remembering the marks he'd undoubtedly left there the night before. He ducked away from Newt's kiss and pressed a kiss to the place next to his ear, a silent apology. Newt's breathless sound said he hadn't minded.

"I do," Minho mumbled, "I do love you, angel."

"Does that mean I can get private shows for free now?" Newt asked, with just enough hope in his voice to make Minho snicker into his shoulder.

"I already told you, I'll dance for you anytime you like."

"...how about now?"

"I just woke up."

"Wow, already backing out on your promise."

"Angel, you're killing me here..."


End file.
